I'm not worthy....

There was a post on the Mom's group I'm part of on Facebook about abusive husbands and the long term fall-out around that kind of violence.  And it got me to thinking and remembering and reflecting on an experience from my college days.

The summer between my sophomore and junior years at Earlham, my bestie at the time, Sarah and I went on an adventure in Brazil.  We had planned on spending the whole summer trekking around the mountains and the Amazon.  And then our plans took a sharp left turn. 

We were staying in a house on the side of a mountain outside of a smallish town.  It was lovely - overlooking the ocean, quiet and secluded.  And in our youth and foolishness, I suppose that it never really occurred to us that it was also a dangerous choice.  One night, we were startled by noise in the upstairs bathroom and went to investigate.  And were robbed at knife-point.  It was beyond anything that the word terrifying can convey.  I will never forget certain moments of that night - there are perfectly preserved snapshots in my mind and heart. 

I was thinking about the days and weeks after that night and my struggle to come back into myself and step out of the deep fear that gripped my soul back into normalcy when it struck me that it had literally been years since I had thanked my God for preserving my life and the life of my friend that night. 

We did not live through that by our own strength or wits (we were too scared to even pee our pants).....we were spared from death and injury by nothing other than God's grace and mercy.  It wasn't fate or good luck or anything other than the Lord Jesus' hand staying the Enemy from destroying us. 

And had I not been taking a shower in the world's smallest shower stall, I would have hit my knees in joyful thanksgiving.  Instead I threw my hands to the sky and praised my Jesus for my life. 

Thank you Lord for the gift of my life.
Thank you Lord for the gift of my life.
And again...
Thank you Lord for the gift of my life.

And I wept tears of gratitude, humbled that the King of Heaven remembered me and Sarah in our distress.

And I prayed - Lord, help me be worthy of the gift of my life.
And instantly, I knew.  I knew that that prayer was wrong.  It was a wet blanket thrown over the joy of true gratitude.

What, Lord?  What is wrong? 

And then the voice of my Savior spoken into the deep and sad and angry and fearful places of my heart:  Mary, do you still not understand?  You are worthy.  YOU ARE WORTHY.  I have already made you so.  You are worthy of the gift of not only your life - but you are worthy of the gift of my life.  You have been worthy since I knew you before time began.  Now do you see?  You are worthy.

Crushed.  Humbled.  Hopeful.  Glimpsing God's goodness and mercy.  I wept tears of gratitude that perhaps I understood a little.

And a new prayer.  Lord, help me to truly rejoice in the gift of my life.  Help me to rejoice. 
Rejoice. 
Rejoice.

Pick Your Poison

We have a neighbor who lost a relative to suicide in the last week.  And while I'm totally not negating the pain that comes with such a loss (a pain I cannot begin to imagine), I've wondered in the last few days about the meaning and nature of despair, about the means by which we combat deep sadness (or don't combat it, as the case may be), about having a living body but a spirit that is dead, about how culturally acceptable it is to slowly murder ourselves, about what it means to LIVE.

I'm not sure I have ever really grasped what the phrase 'abundant life' actually is, actually feels, actually looks like.  I'm much more  at home with the phrase 'ok life,' or 'this day has really sucked life,' or 'woe is me life.'  I'm far more adept at feeling sorry for myself than I am at giving thanks for really much of anything.  And I totally know how to get down and stay down - and in the process drag everybody else down with me.  I don't really mean to despair - but it's JUST SO MUCH EASIER in my flesh than to be joyful and grateful.

Are you with me?  Or am I the only bummer around here?

This down-ness inevitably leads to self-medication.  And there are many forms of slow poison we can choose. 

And then there's the heart issues.  What if our body is physically alive but are hearts are squeezed to death by spiritual immaturities?  What if we are slowly killing ourselves, our relationships and the hearts of our loved ones with things like

envy

gossip

bitterness

unforgiveness

laziness

wastefulness

apathy

unkindness

anger

malice

rage

self-righteousness

pride.

My friends, there are all kinds of ways to kill what is beautiful and holy and glorious in ourselves and others.  But there's only one way to live.  And his name is Jesus.  The problem is that we are too prideful, too apathetic and too frightened to let go our crutches and LIVE.  At least I am - because I know how to limp along and keep a bandaid on the really ugly things about myself.  But God's not fooled.  Not one little bit.  And every moment that I resist God's salvation for my dying self, every self-loathing thought and attitude, every breath that wounds another of His children - every barrier, fence, and defense that I raise to my Jesus' desire for my abudant life is choice to DIE.  I pray for the strength and courage to live and love and glorify my Lord.

The root of mercy

January was a long hard month.  Really long and really hard.  We had just over three weeks of really wicked stomach bugs that we just passed around and around (well, they passed...Mama never got sick - I just had to clean up after all of them!). 

Then my Nana was taken to the hospital for a week long stay after a dangerously low blood sugar and now is finishing up a month or so of inpatient rehab. 

And the Big Sarge switched over to third shift. 

And I've been really, really, really tired.  And thus, really, really, really rude.  To everyone.  But mostly my husband.

At some point this month, I made a conscious decision to really pray about my mouth and its destructive power.  And I've been doing pretty well.  Not perfect...but, my name's not Jesus. 

I'll give you an example:  the other day, The Big Sarge said something that really irritated me.  Really.  I just totally thought that what he said was really stupid and immature.  And instead of telling him so, I kept my mouth shut.  I knew that I just needed to pray about this area for him - pray that he would get a little further along in his journey and really just be better...and because he had this little wrinkle in his personality, I really wanted to be merciful towards him...I'm not immature in this particular way so I should be patient and kind to him until he catches up with me.  That's mercy, right?

Wrong.

That's not mercy.  That's pride and self-righteousness.  My Holy Spirit whispered these loud, blaring words into my heart.  Mercy is not born out of seeing the one, microscopic aspect of myself that I have momentarily conquered and then patronizing and patting on the head those who are still struggling there.  Mercy is born out precisely the opposite place.  It is born out of the real, deep and total knowledge of my own shortcomings - when I view myself in light of God's perfect holiness, there is no room for me to be anything but humble....when I view myself in light of God's mercy on me, how can I do anything but show real, true mercy to those around me.

The end result may be the same - I may manage to keep my mouth shut - but Jesus isn't interested just in the end result....He is interested in the heart.

The Heart. 

My Heart.  Your Heart.

And while I do think (hope.  pray) that I get half-credit for at least keeping my mouth shut, dear Jesus isn't satisfied until my motivation is right.

Does this discourage you?  It discourages me.  A lot.  But it shouldn't.  Five years ago, none of this would ever have even occur ed to me. I would have gleefully slayed my man with my mouth and never looked back.  And I would have stomped on and flamed the little bits of him that had dropped off during my attack.  It's a process.  Five years ago, I had no idea my heart wasn't right - at least now I know and can pray for forgiveness. 

And strive.  Strive.  Strive. 

Not striving for right behavior.  But striving for a heart that is like Christ's.

Organizational Nonsense

Several months ago, after trying to get one thing out of my spice cabinet and having fifteen others fall out on my head AGAIN (!#^@*), I decided it was time to _actually_do something about this mess besides complain and semi-swear about it.


So I pulled everything out of the cabinet and was surprised to see how much really cool stuff was hiding in back of my cabinet.

Chaos!!  Chaos!!

that's A LOT of coriander...good thing we eat it 'most every day...

baking stuff....too bad I don't bake much....

So, we sorted and got rid of, labelled and reorganized....and it was beautiful.

Baking stuff all together on the top shelf....herbs together, seeds together,  all the bags poured into jars and labelled, all the spice blends snuggled up together.  It's lovely.  Really.  I was really feeling great about myself.  And then this thought came to me:

Child, you've just spent an hour organizing hundreds of dollars worth of seasonings. 

Seasonings.  Not even food

that would keep you alive.  Do you know

that people are starving?  Starving.  Are you sure your priorities are in the right order?

I would like to think that my cabinet of spices is no big deal.....but is it? 

How do I justify it to this baby's Mama?

How do I explain to her why my babies are healthy, clean and well fed.

Or how about to these people?



Do you think that they would be sympathetic to my dissatisfied heart about my house because its a double-wide in a really nice park with no room for a real garden - and not a real house with a big yard and a tree swing? 

My life's really tough, isn't it?

And I moan and groan because I've overfed myself and so some of my clothes don't fit and I don't have money to buy new ones.  Or my husband blessedly has a job in this tough economy, but he's not making enough money for my taste.  Or my Bible isn't the perfect translation.  Or I can't afford the most perfect curriculum for my homeschooled kids - while all over the world, children are doomed to a life of illiteracy because they lack a pencil.  A freaking pencil....

<><> <><> <><>

(photo from http://thepencilproject.com/ 
check them out....I think we'll be getting to know these folks very soon!)

I'm not saying that it's wrong to research good curriculum or buy new clothes or even have a really nice house.  I'm saying it's wrong to have those things first - first on our minds, first in our checkbooks, first in our hearts. 

What kind of wretch am I that I won't buy cheap mayonnaise because it doesn't taste as good, and then go home and wonder if I can afford to make my monthly commitment of $64 to Food for the Hungry for two sponsored children? 

What, I'm really not willing to go without one bit of food for my over-sated self, one bit of comfort in a house crammed full of comforts, one single ounce of selfishness to meet the basic needs of a brother or sister in Christ? 

Maybe I'm overthinking this.  Exaggerating.  Making something out of nothing.  Maybe.  But one thing I KNOW for certain - one day I will have to stand and face the Lord Jesus in judgement and I will have to give an accounting for my life.  And I seriously don't think a well-ordered spice cabinet, a well-groomed lawn or even well-educated children are going to win me any favor. 

If I have any hope of hearing, "Well done..." my life, my heart, my priorities, my goals, my dreams, my checkbook, my waistline, my closet, my attitude - they all have to begin to change NOW.  And change radically. 

My whole life has to be about Kingdom work....about making sure that EVERYONE - from LadyBug, Firecracker and the Griz to my neighbors to my brothers and sister around the world - knows that the Lord Jesus is in love with them.  That He seeks them.  That He wants, more than anything, to wrap them in His mercy and goodness - no matter who they, where they are or what they are doing.  That the Bible is not ancient history, not a collection of moralistic fables, not an instruction book - but a LOVE STORY written to and for and about them. 

It's ok to organize our kitchens....but it's probably also about time to organize our priorities.

Please allow me to introduce myself...

So, since I haven't been around much, I thought this might be a good time to (re)introduce myself.

First, a recent photo:

I think it's really quite a good likeness.  Sigh...been a long streak of stepping in it...sticking my foot in my mouth.....and eating humble pie. 
                            Refrain from anger and turn from wrath;
                                   do not fret—it leads only to evil.
                                         Psalm 37:8

Or, then there's the face my kids see a bit too often....

Yeah, about that temper thing.  Have yet to turn them bodily into stone, but what of their hearts?  I tell them often that they can't use this or that circumstance as excuse for bad behavior, or bad attitudes.  But too often, they feel the effect of my too tired, frayed nerves and bear the brunt of my bad attitude.  And I guess you could say that with life as it is at the moment that we have every right to be tired and a bit worn around the edges....but do we?  Yep, we're human and thus susceptible to difficulties of this life but we are also given some pretty non-negotiable instructions in Paul's letter to the Thessalonians:
                                             ¹⁶ Rejoice always,
                                                     ¹⁷ pray continually,
                                                                   ¹⁸ give thanks in all circumstances; for this
                                                  is God’s will for you
                                                       in Christ Jesus.
                                                          1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
And then, there's my deployment fitness regime which has yielded really impressive results.

Yep, that's right - I've been following the Body by Grimace program.  This consists of three pregnancies, two C-sections, and a grueling daily ritual that includes nightly snacking and a lot of time sitting on your rear-side watching movies and feeling sorry for yourself.  It's been hell, but I'm trying to persevere.  In truth, since Big Sarge is getting skinnier on the the Deployment Diet, I've decided to gain all the weight he's lost in the most unattractive way possible so that, when he's finally home for good, he'll feel really good about himself in contrast. 

Seriously, I wonder when we will actually begin to really see our eating (over-eating, under-eating, junk-eating, obsessively-only-organic-everything-eating, etc.) as a spiritual issue.  Because whichever way the wind blows us, it all comes down to pride, idolatry and materialism.....just like everything else that we trip over.  Food ought to be a gift, a blessing and thing to be thankful for....but I'm not sure I know a single person who really sees it that way.

                                 ²⁰ Do not join those who drink too much wine
                                          or gorge themselves on meat,
                                                                                 ²¹ for drunkards and gluttons

                                                          become poor,
                                                               and drowsiness clothes them

                                                                    in rags. 

                                                                      Proverbs 23:20-21

Add it all together, and this is what you get:

This, for those of you who don't know, is an eggbeater.  I'm pretty sure that this device is being cranked at an amazing rate of speed somewhere behind my bellybutton 24 hours a day.  I'm still making to the end of each day, but barely.  I'm still feeding all three children, but we've been eating a lot of popcorn.  Everyone is still dressed, but more often than not, they're dressing out of the dryer.  I'm still sleeping, but not deeply and not long.  And I could easily point the finger at my current nemesis: 



But, that's not the real root of the issue and we all know it.  The root of the real issue is self-pity - pride's evil twin brother.  The reason that the abundant life that the Lord designed and desires of us is so often out of reach is because we don't really want it.  We're far too busy looking for the next sap to dry our tears and kiss our boo-boos that we become those things that seek to drag us down. 

Yes, it's a hardship to be alone - or whatever your circumstance is.  Yes, we were warned by Christ Himself to expect trouble - and we get it.  And yes, there are terrible, tragic, grieving things that overtake us on this journey.  But in the midst of these things, are we truly, truly seeing to worship and glorify God, or too often are we seeking after pity, desiring to be glorified for our handling of this or that, secretly enjoying our role as victim? 

 And yes, it's a process - we grieve in stages, we move through the process of accepting our lot, we grow and stretch and change in our circumstances.....but all this assumes some kind of forward motion.  I don't know about you, but I spend a lot of time in neutral - just blindly moving from one assigned place and time to another. 

Abundant life is about seeking God, seeking maturity, seeking surrender, seeking, seeking, seeking. 

But I fear that we are often too busy wallowing to be doing Gods' work in this world.

So, now that we've been (re)introduced.....you still wanna be friends??????

soon and very soon

For the last few years, our crib has lived at my mom's house.  There wasn't any sense in it gathering dust here and she used it for my brother's kids when they came to visit.  But, since the Griz is getting bigger by the minute and rapidly outgrowing the bassinet, it was time to bring the crib home.  Good timing, really since the Big Sarge will be home in the next few weeks and there's probably not enough room for me, the Griz and the Sarge in a double bed.  Maybe back when Big Sarge and Mama were a bit skinnier, but now, perhaps not so much.....

So, job done - crib disassembled, moved and re-assembled.  I rock.  Yes, I do. 

And now, there it sits.

A large, obtrusive reminder that mid-tour leave is nearly upon us.  The monkeys are excited.  The Sarge is excited.  I'm.....scared to death.  I've been alone for over five months now.  And I'm tired, and a little harried.  But, I'm making it.  I always do. 

Since we've been married, the Big Sarge has often been away, or worked crazy hours or been on orders.  We lived through several years of his being a National Guard recruiter.  This equals crazy hours, always being available and taking appointments whenever and wherever you can get them.  Then the first 362 day deployment.  Then a few months of a civilian job where Sarge was home every night, but not making good money, so I worked at night.  Then a job in the mobilization cell at Indiantown Gap where we averaged two nights a week and every other weekend with him home.  Then last year, he was at Ft Dix for what amounted to almost 7 months when you added it all together.  And now deployment #2. 

dropping the Sarge off.....boo!

I'm good at being on my own.  And not so good at having him here.

Most people think that the hardest thing would be to let someone else make the every day decisions that I can make all by myself - and do make all by myself.  But for me, that's not really a big deal - it's actually a relief to have someone else hand out consequences, tell Firecracker if she's allowed to wear stripes and plaid together and tell me where they are going to drive me to eat supper. 

And our life is so chaotic and our house such a pig sty that there's very little order that can be disordered around here. 

For me, it's a heart issue.  Too much time alone cultivates a hard heart in me.  A heart that doesn't really want to need anyone.  A heart would just rather be left alone.  This is not exactly a healthy approach to marriage...

So, I'm striving to un-harden this heart of stone.....and I really want to succeed.  I really want us to have a good two weeks.   I really want the Sarge to head back to the sandbox knowing that he is loved, honored and respected.  I really want to do this well. 

Prayer gratefully accepted.

not exactly a stellar day

This is a day that I could have just as easily skipped....except for a really sweet note that a young friend wrote to me.....

Too bad that I was supposed to be rejoicing, continuously praying and giving thanks for every circumstance (1 Thessalonions 5:16-18) that broke my heart, pissed me off and made me want to scream and swear.  Or at least that's what the apostle Paul tells me.....then again, what does he know?

Well, Lord, they say your mercies are new every morning.....let's pray that mine will be, too. 

      Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed,
      Because His compassions fail not.
      They are new every morning;
      Great is Your faithfulness.
      "The Lord is my portion," says my soul,

      "Therefore, I hope in Him."

               Lamentations 3:22-24 (NKJV)

some cold hard facts

Dear friends, if you are here looking for answers, you're in the wrong place.  This is a place of questions, of missteps, of having to seek forgiveness.  I don't claim to be the expert on anything. 

I don't know about you, but too often I really don't get other blogs - especially ones written by stay-at-home Christian moms.  I wonder if they are entirely too happy, if they are really honest about their days, if they are really in touch with reality.  Me, I'm not often as happy, or with it, or able to fake it as well as those people.  Personally, I have many days that down-right suck - days when abundant life seems like a pipe dream......and I suspect that you have them, too. 

This life that I have been given is fraught with danger, full of potholes and overflowing with blessing.  I strive to see the hand of God in the every day of my life - and if I don't, am wise enough to know that it's because of my faulty vision and not His lack of presence.  I strive to be the fruit of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness and self-control) and not just force myself to act like them.  I purpose everyday to steward and enjoy my children and not just fervently pray for bedtime.  And some days I glimpse, out of the corner of my eye, a shadow of the greatness of God....I grasp for a fleeting moment what 'freedom in Christ' really means.....I sense the incredible release of finally trading my armor in for a heart that is unafraid.  I long to dwell in those places, to have confidence in a life of full surrender.  But then, a word, an accusation from the enemy, a dark reminder of things left undone and the longing fades away. 

This slogging away through muck and mire is not the life that God intends for us.....it is the life we build for ourselves out of our own sin, our own self-reliance, our own foolish notions that we can save ourselves.  The muck and mire will always remain in this world, but what the Lord Jesus offers us is a way to navigate it, to rise above it, to overcome it....and then to turn and bring those around us out of it, too. 

Come along as I navigate my way out....